


Change

by Oldine



Series: Alders [1]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: Drama, F/M, Family Drama, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-16
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2019-04-23 21:39:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14341440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oldine/pseuds/Oldine
Summary: (Replaces Solstice) Imagine a Torchwood agent going back in time and killing the 456 in 1965. Ianto was in Argentina instead of Rex. This shows a relationship between Jack and Ianto where they are not only equals, their relationship has lasted long enough where they have had to find a compromise between incompatible views of relationships. (This version is slower and ideally better thought out than Solstice. Rather then trying to simply edit in a different version, I removed plot-lines and original characters and altered the story.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In viewing cultures, relationships, and definitions of fidelity, it's important to remember that people are different. It's been pointed out that in my writing I place the burden on Ianto to adapt. It's not that simple. The alternative is forcing Jack to adopt an oppressive culture because it won't accept him for who he is. 
> 
> Jack's view of sex and sexuality is a running joke in Doctor Who and Torchwood. Tosh sums it up with "he will shag anything if it's pretty enough." By the 51st century, humans view sex as recreational. Men, women, aliens. They're open-minded and they explore the universe in unique ways. But as a culture, it's not a joke. Whatever lead human beings (or their descendants) to behave like that, it's how they think and view the universe in general.

** England Field, 1965 **

In theory, Keara Monfort thought, destroying the 456 would save the hub and Ianto. A simple solution to a complex problem. The first of many. Jack needed to keep his humanity and stay on Earth. Keeping him out of a trouble would be an ongoing problem. But he was needed. By Torchwood, Earth and Anwen.

Keara arrived before Jack and the bus. She stopped walking and consulted a local map on a hand-held computer. Then using a device strikingly similar to a key fob, she summoned a containment box from Nigeria. The contents provided everything she needed to destroy the 456.

Using the hand-held, Keara quickly accessed a blueprint. Assembling the device took longer than expected. She heard the bus in the distance before completing it. Having to rush annoyed her, but she activated it in time. It arrived and Jack unloaded the kids. He eyed the area as if he suspected a problem. When he flipped open his wrist-strap, Keara knew she had to act. Revealing herself had not been part of the plan. With no other option, she dropped the energy cloak concealing her. She needed to buy time.

As Keara hoped, Jack looked up from his scan. Then reached for his gun. She activated her ballistic shield. The future technology added to his suspicious, but he holstered his weapon. A Webly was ineffective against the energy barrier.

“Who are you?”

“Future Torchwood.” Keara wondered how much she should tell him. “The aliens won’t honor this agreement.” That much wouldn’t damage the time line. 

“You’re intentionally changing the past?” 

She nodded. “It’s necessary to save the planet.”

When the 456 attempted to take the children, they transported the weapon based on Jack’s original design. A light flashed briefly. She checked her hand-held and nodded. It worked. Allowing the children to survive complicated the minimal change she hoped for.

“You destroyed your time line.”

She nodded. “Long ago.”

Anwen would have rescued the children, especially the Anwen she’d foreseen as a result of this change. Keara wished she could protect Anwen from everything. But it wasn’t possible. Pain and loss happened. Over protection would keep Anwen from becoming the leader she needed to be.

“Why?”

The answer was too painful to share. “You destroyed yours.” 

“Unintentionally.” 

That was an understatement. After meeting multiple versions of Jack, she still didn’t know the whole story. His immortality somehow involved Time Lord technology and an alien invasion. Torchwood files had varying explanations for his arrival during Victorian times.

“I need to go.” Keara thought of one advantage to meeting Jack. “Use this to boost your reputation. You will need it.”

 

** Hughes Flats; Cardiff, Wales **

** Friday, June 21, 2019 **

Ianto Jones sat on the edge of Jack’s bed with his eyes closed. After ten years, their relationship felt like an ongoing argument in-between Torchwood crises. In the beginning, their relationship was casual and fun. They played naked hide-and-seek in the hub after hours. And stole intimate moments when they could. It felt like a different lifetime. 

Jack propped himself up. “Come back to bed.”

A simple request. Except nothing was ever simple anymore. 

Jack’s mobile rang. He shifted in bed to reach the phone on the bedside table behind him. “Morning.” He then switched it to speaker phone, answering Ianto’s unasked question. 

“Something happened,” Anwen said, unsure of how to explain. “It felt like a change in Rift energy.”

“Did you tell your mother?” 

“No. She doesn’t want to believe me. It scares her.”

Ianto turned toward Jack. “Comparison?” 

“Uncle Jack. You have energy like the Rift, but it’s different. You’re not from here and whatever happened isn’t either.”

Anwen had shown an odd sensitivity to Rift energy. She could easily identify objects that came through. The only possible explanation was adaption. So far. She was born and raised in Cardiff. While most people had no idea the Rift exist, anyone living nearby had been exposed.

“What did it feel like?” Jack asked.

“Change. Like someone editing a story,” Anwen said, “Except I think it’s time.” 

Jack met Ianto’s eyes. They both had ideas what that meant and none of them were good. Like many conversations, they’d been together long enough that it didn’t need to be said. Time manipulation was bad. If Anwen could sense chronons, that meant her ability was more than sensitivity caused by the Rift. That was the most Ianto could anticipate. The rest they would have to discuss.

“Get some sleep,” Jack said.

The call ended.

Jack flipped open his wrist-com and scanned the building. “Nothing obvious.”

“Is it possible Anwen senses chronons?” 

“I don’t know.” Jack reached for Ianto. “It can wait.” The previous argument led to brief wrestling until they kissed and the conflict faded as it always did. 

When the mobile rang again, Jack was laying half on top of Ianto. Jack reached for the phone, not wanting to move. “Hey.” He switched it to speaker phone.

“We have a problem.” Gwen went on to explain that Anwen had a black, watch-like band on her left wrist. Scan readings suggested a wrist-strap. “We can’t remove it.”

“Give us ten minutes. Then bring Anwen up.”

 

Jack Harkness stood in the kitchen eying the sunrise through the window. Ianto made coffee and considered breakfast. The familiar routine reminded Jack what caused the recent conflict. They spent most of their nights together, but kept separate flats. If they moved in together, they’d argue more. And he would have a harder time keeping the secrets Ianto needed.

The door opened and Gwen entered with Anwen. Jack turned and walked toward the main room, patting Ianto’s arse. They needed to talk without arguing. Easier said than done. Maintaining a relationship between two people with incompatible world views was complicated. And painful. 

“Get a room we’re not in,” Gwen said in amusement.

Jack flipped his wrist-strap open and scanned Anwen’s new accessory. "It’s a wrist-strap similar to mine. With DNA encoding and a chronon signature." He wondered why the readings looked familiar.

“How do we remove it?”

Jack looks at Gwen. “We don’t.”

She didn’t like that answer. “Where did it come from?”

“I don’t know.” Except the scan readings looked familiar. Wrist-straps were customized. He didn’t remember one designed to conceal itself, or any instance where one was re-purposed. The only idea he had was future Torchwood. It didn’t explain how or why. 

 

Ianto Jones waited by the coffee pot mentally reviewing his to-do list. Landscaping, inventory, maintenance review. He wanted to plant annuals, but didn’t have time. Which was his fault. Torchwood London authorized hiring more personnel, but he made excuses. For the most part, the jealousy was unfounded. But he couldn’t help it.

Jack walked over, set his chin on Ianto’s shoulder and a hand lightly on his opposite hip. A gesture Ianto viewed as an affectionate demand for information. He was trapped between a hug and the counter.

“You’re tense,” Jack prompted.

“I have a lot to do.” It was no secret why. 

“Are you mad about the flat or the applicants?”

Ianto hesitated, knowing it’s pointless. “Yep.”

“Do you want to interview support staff?” Jack gave it a moment. “A doctor wants to transfer from London.” Amusement crept into his voice. “She can keep up with Tosh.” He paused. “And has Owen’s bedside manner.”

“That’s why she’s leaving London. Owen was promoted to head of medical.” Jack was trying to politely point out the hiring paranoia was unjustified. “Are we good?”

“Yeah.” Ianto knew better than to argue, but he couldn’t help it. “Sharing a flat is reasonable.” And it was proof of commitment. 

Jack sighed. “We need to stop doing this.” 

Ianto sadly agreed. Although Jack didn’t bring company home, out of consideration, it would be harder to keep the details to himself. A compromise they made years ago. Understanding and accepting were unfortunately two different things. “I can’t.”

“We will figure it out.” 

Ianto nudged Jack back and turned around. They hugged. Regardless of their differences or arguments, they were determined to make it work. Argentina changed everything. Ianto expected the transfusion of Jack’s blood to kill him. Even if Ianto had known the potential side-effects, he would have done it anything. Neither of them expected to survive. Instead, he woke Jack’s equal. They were immortal and bonded.


	2. Chapter 2

** Moss-Probert Research Facility; Cardiff, Wales **

Not for the first time since returning to Cardiff, John Hart wondered what he was doing. Promise or no promise, his connection to Torchwood died in 2049. She opted to go down with the ship instead of stay with him. They could have gone anywhere. Done anything. He owed her nothing. Except he did. She cleaned him up, dried him out and somehow convinced him to stay that way. He knew when he met her that Torchwood was everything. To save Earth, she would have sacrificed anything. And did.

After checking his watch, John flipped open his wrist-strap and disabled the facility’s security system. If he hadn’t already known MP conspired with aliens, the technology would have convinced him. Intel provided a different picture. Their understanding and ability to adapt the complicated and partially incompatible tech implied direct alien involvement. It was initially assumed the advancements had been salvaged by a crashed spacecraft or pieces that came through the Rift. 

A puzzle for another day, John concluded. They had a prisoner escape to arrange.

John scanned the computer system for the intercom. As expected, it had an internal communication option. It appeared linked to security. Which fit. Outside an emergency, they had no reason to make an announcement. The majority of the people in the old hospital facility were unwilling patients. No one experimenting on unwilling human test subjects cared about their well-being.

Overriding the system protections and redundancies went quickly. John activated the intercom and transferred a prerecorded message. Then steadied himself for the sound of her voice.

“Torchwood has a zero tolerance policy for unethical research. We find that empowering victims serves as a deterrent. While your target victims are chosen for their broken or submissive personalities, they will fight back given the opportunity to do so.”

John smiled sadly. And waited for the signal. When the VIPs were secured, and the others clear of the building, he would place charges. During the evacuation would have been faster, but risked early detonation. The VIPs were too important.

After his wrist-strap chimed the all clear, he went to work. The explosion needed to make a statement. It was unlikely any of the survivors and Steven, they wouldn’t live to repeat the intercom message. Partway through wiring the explosives, he heard an unrelated detonation. He flipped open his wrist-strap and quickly scanned the facility. One of the survivors blew up the lab. Impressive, but not a problem. He needed to find and evacuate the person before he detonated.

Another chime indicated a message. John accepted it. “Miriam Morgans is in the building.”

John swore in a language from his Time Agent days, and used his portal device. There were few guarantees in life. Miriam hated Moss-Probert. With a passion bordering on insanity. She would destroy the building. And anyone that got in her way. A series of explosions combined with his. The ground shook as the building collapsed. Proving what he already knew. Miriam was not someone to anger.

When Steven finally arrived, his injuries explained why he was late. “Thomas didn’t realize I was helping people,” he explained. The pain was evident in his tone.

“Miriam’s Thomas?” John seemed to remember her saying he was passive.

Steven nodded and grimaced. “With all the Thomas stories Miriam told, she never once mentioned he was a first gen biomech with an alien exoskeleton.

“She always said he was unique.” John smiled.

As the sirens neared, Steven said, “We have to get out of here.”

“Did Charon get the VIPs?”

“Everyone.” Steven portaled out.

John followed.

 

Hughes Flats

Gwen Cooper poured another mug of coffee. It was that kind of morning. A hang up call work them early. Then a personalized alien device somehow attached itself to Anwen. Jack didn’t know how that was possible. What was Rhys’ response?

“Why did you have to go up there before work?”

She sipped coffee. Having already explained the wrist band mystery repeatedly, she doubted she could keep her temper. Not with Rhys’ skewed priorities.

“You spend enough time with him already.”

Do not yell, Gwen told herself again. 

“Mornings are for family,” Rhys emphasized.

Calm, relaxing breakfasts where they discuss the day’s possibilities. Mom has PTA. Dad has a full schedule at the office. And their well-mannered daughter had home economics. 

“Stop it,” Anwen declared, entering the kitchen. “Cadoc’s wife left him for more money. He was an idiot for marrying her.” She seethed. “Mom is not leaving you for Uncle Jack. Stop being an arse.”

“You will not take that tone with me,” Rhys retorted angrily.

“Act your age and I won’t have to.”

Gwen’s mobile rang. She picked it up off the counter. Andy at 7 AM, she thought, wasn’t good.   


“It’s family time,” Rhys bellowed.

She pressed connect and walked toward the main room. “ Cooper.”

Sirens and loud voices were in the background. “Morning.” Andy Davidson sounded stressed. She could hear a busy scene in the background. "Do you know where the old hospital is?" He described the location. "It’s beyond description, Gwen. Some type of research facility. The firefighters finally have the fire under control." He lowered his voice. "Possible alien technology."

"Send me the details."

They exchanged byes and the call ended.

“Jack can wait!”

Calm, Gwen repeated. “That was Andy.” She turned. “Requesting assistance.”’

 

Ianto Jones stayed in Jack’s flat to use the office. One more reason they should live together, he thought absently as he checked the system. Connecting to the hub took longer than usual. He was wondering if he would have to drive to the office when a log-in screen appeared. He signed in with the required retina scan. While it was a normal security procedure, it seemed different. 

“Update complete,” the computer announced. It then presented a list of notifications. 

Puzzled, Ianto scrolled through. He was the last one out of the hub last night. No updates were scheduled or programmed. London could change his profile, but the differences were personal, including officially changing his title to Torchwood Three Office Manager. The Institute had argued that he was no more than support for years and the only reason it was an issue was his relationship with Jack. He wouldn’t have changed anything without mentioning it.

Ianto quickly found his mobile and entered Jack’s number. Not only the modifications, but the timing worried him. Anwen thought time changed. Then she received a wrist-strap supporting the idea. Now the hub was reporting unexplained updates. 

Jack answered. “Not there yet.”

“We have another problem.” Ianto explained what he knew. “One notification indicates structural changes. More rooms, additional storage. Maintenance robots.” It was a type of redesign he would have suggested if he thought it was possible.

“Run scans.”

“Jack, Anwen sensed Rift energy and chronons. Could the present have been altered by the past or the future through the Rift?”

“Possibly.” Jack didn’t like the idea.

“Why now?” 

“Checking building security. Talk to Rhys.”

The call ended leaving Ianto to wait on scans and diagnostics and think. If it was the future, it had to be Torchwood. Accessing and remodeling the hub required extensive knowledge. Motivation offered more possibilities than he could imagine. The arrogance of making changes, particularly how the wrist-strap would affect Anwen, supported the theory. A future version of Jack came to mind. Except he would have notified himself. And giving a child a wrist-strap didn’t fit. Unless the future Torchwood agent that made the changes was Anwen.


	3. Chapter 3

** Moss-Probert Research Facility **

Jack Harkness parked the Torchwood van on the access road behind emergency vehicles. Fire engines outnumbered PD, ambulances and the morgue. That suggested difficulty extinguishing the fire. Cardiff unfortunately had a lot of experience over the years. Torchwood quietly added to the city’s equipment funds. That many engines indicated an unusually bad situation.

“What do we know?”

Gwen sat in the passenger seat with a laptop remotely accessing the hub’s computer. “The old hospital was purchased by Moss-Probert, a pharmaceutical research company, three years ago. Their website claims they study plants. One conspiracy site accuses them of human experimentation." She tapped the screen. "There have been an increase in missing persons according to police statistics across Great Britain since the facility opened. The Rift grabs random people. The majority of the missing are in need of medical attention and/or homeless."

‘Why now?’ Jack thought, Ianto’s question replaying in his head. Coincidences, even extreme coincidences happened. If the future changed the past right before a new case with ugly potential, the situation was a lot worse than the details suggested.

“Coordinate with the police.” Jack motioned through the wind screen at Andy. "Take pictures for facial rec and plates," he added as she opened the door. 

Jack climbed out of the van worried about more than usual at the beginning on a possible investigation. They needed more information. The wrist-strap nagged at him. Vortex manipulators were customized. He recognized the configuration. He knew the agent. Too much had happened since he left the Time Agency. Memories faded. The puzzle distracted him as he walked toward the ruins.

One problem at a time, he thought, spotting the suits. Civilians should not have been allowed at a crime scene. Their clothes and cars suggested they were well-paid businessmen and women. Money sometimes meant power which could explain their presence. They were somehow associated with the facility.

Whatever Jack could say about his long, unique life, he had a lot of experience reading people. He chose a casual approach. Combined with his ridiculous social reputation, it often resulted in people underestimating him. The business people noticed as he walked over.

"Captain Jack Harkness," he announced. "Torchwood."

A pretty man in an expensive suit extended his hand. "Tedmond Lake. Moss-Probert." 

Jack shook it. 

"Torchwood investigates fires?" The man smiled, oozing charm.

Jack smiled. "We investigate anything strange."

"As long as we're not wasting your time."

"Meeting new people is never a waste."

Lake removed a business card from his wallet. "Call me if you have any questions." His hand lingered against Jack’s briefly.

"I will."

Attempting to flirt under the circumstances spoke volumes about him. It definitely wasn’t a waste of time. The company sent Lake for PR and damage control. Why? What did the company need to distract the media from? Torchwood? Jack found his mobile as he walked away. Even if Ianto had to use the Internet for initial background, they needed more information.

 

Gwen Cooper eyed the scene as she walked over to Andy. It wasn't secured. Too many unnecessary people near a dangerous situation. The explosive force required for the damage was above and beyond. Torchwood or not, it was some type of message. Terrorism usually resulted in more common sense. 

“Why didn’t PD clear the site?” Gwen asked quietly.

Andy kept his voice down. “Damage control.” He didn’t like the idea. “Moss-Probert has city contracts. Locking the scene before Torchwood arrived was premature.” 

“What is the media being told?”

“Anti-science extremists.”

While that was possible, Gwen thought, she doubted it. Eco-terrorists and animal rights extremists had been known to use explosives, but used different methods. “Any reason to support a religious or environmental motive?”

“No.” Andy lowered his voice further until it was almost a whisper. “Two of the firefighters know we worked PD together and showed me suspicious debris. I took pictures.” He found his mobile and quickly found them. Then handed her the phone. “It’s been removed.”

“How?” Gwen flipped through the pictures. 

“An extra bomb squad arrived to assess the damage and left quickly.”

Gwen had no doubt it was a Torchwood case. “Send me these.” The question was who interfered. Removing evidence implicated the company. Using a specialty PD unit suggested the government, UNIT or Torchwood London. The last two would have claimed the scene, more likely than not, and explained themselves. Jack needed to sort it.

Speaking to a few firefighters, and morgue techs, she confirmed what Andy told her. And more. The extra bomb squad guys used a civilian vehicle. They removed pieces of debris and one of the bodies. Several witnesses took pictures. She thanked them for copies and passed out business cards. They might have enough for facial recognition.

Emergency workers offered several advantages as witnesses. Reliably identifying people violating city policy and safety procedures was one of them. They also tended to stay calm and think about evidence. A paramedic commented that the extra bomb squad wore the wrong type of uniform boots. And one was nervous or twitchy. He definitely wasn’t a bomb tech.

When Gwen returned to the van with Jack, she had a growing list of questions and none were good. A company openly removing evidence was rare, and usually involved impulsive actions rather than planning and coordination. It suggested Moss-Probert was prepared to clean up after itself. With any investigation, the way criminals concealed evidence said a lot about them. This was not MP’s first offense.

“Evidence was removed.” Gwen handed Jack her mobile. 

 

** Moss-Probert Corporate Headquarters; London, England **

The spacious office inspired claustrophobia. Percy Heitt poured himself a drink. Listening to firsthand accounts, and reading reports left him tired. The facility was a total loss. The staff was dead. The research projects escaped. And they had no idea who did it or why. Damage control and reclaiming the projects were a necessity and problematic. Publicity would be manipulated. Law enforcement managed. 

The door opened as Heitt returned to his desk. Albreda looked as tired as he felt. It had been a long day and would get longer. "Lake and Caudell are waiting."

Hewitt nodded. "Show them in."

Lake always reminded him of a chameleon. He could blend with any surroundings, often convincing people he had a charmed upbringing. Nothing could be farther from the truth. His social presentation was almost as impressive as his street skills. A useful sociopath. Caudell had similar blending skills. And fewer ethics. The former military man followed orders and asked few questions. Unlike Lake.

"The situation is a disaster." Heitt barely keep his anger in check. "How did Torchwood get involved?"

Lake sat forward in a chair across his desk. "Sergeant Andy Davidson. He’s an unofficial liaison between the Cardiff police department and Torchwood."

Heitt nodded. "Did they find anything?"

"Possibly. Constables and firefighters may have photographed debris before it was removed,” Lake said. “One of the scientists has a Middle Eastern grandmother. We can connect her to terrorism and blame the damage or anything Torchwood suspects on that. He passed a government background check. The blame would not be ours."

"Do it." Heitt dismissed Lake. Then waited until the door closed behind him. “Anything on the test subjects?”

“CCTV footage of unmarked lorries leaving the area.”

“Good. Find them.”


	4. Chapter 4

** Hughes Flats; Cardiff, Wales **

Anwen Williams reorganized her horse figurines on another boring afternoon. She could still picture the horse farm her mom took her to last spring. Beautiful, arrogant creatures. She held her small Arabian and smiled. One day she'd race across the countryside with her hair flying behind her. Her mother arranged a ride around the paddock. They only had English saddles. Western were cooler. Romantic nonsense, she knew, but she liked cowboys.

She watched old movies as her mom and dad thought the newer ones weren't age appropriate. A friend's parents let them watch Cowboys and Aliens. The ridiculous movie made her think of her mother's job. It was like a western. A wily gunfighter standing up against insane odds. Her friends thought she liked Daniel Craig because he was James Bond. She preferred Jake Lonergan.

Movies, and possible new movies, were forefront on her mind when she sensed him. An energy signature similar to her uncle's. The back door alarm should have sounded but hadn't. He was probably a friend of Jack's. Curious, and bored, she grabbed the alien lock-pick and small weapon she'd taken from her mom's collection. The building was as secure as her uncle could make it. Being able to defend herself was comforting somehow. Or maybe she'd watched too many westerns. She didn't want to be rescued.

Through the doors, and down the stairs, she wondered what the stranger was doing. If he was checking the security, that wasn't in the basement. Jack or mum would have called dad if there was a problem. She hesitated before entering the basement as it occurred to her that he might be an intruder.

If he was a threat, she justified they needed to know. The basement had dimmer light and smelled funny. She walked down the hall and approached the door. She used one device to unlock the storage door and gripped her weapon. With an outstretched hand, she opened it and stepped back out of view.

"Who's there?" Anwen hoped she sounded more confident than she felt.

"The tooth fairy." The man sounded amused.

Unsure what to say, she went with the first thing that came to mind. "Like in Hellboy 2?"

He laughed.

"Why are you here?" Anwen wondered aloud. 

"Can you sense me?"

"You're a Time Agent," she decided, "Like Uncle Jack."

"Captain John Hart. I work for Torchwood."

"No." She should have called Jack. "You tried to kill my mum."

"A long time ago, Anwen. I work for Torchwood thirty years from now."

"The time changes. Why?"

"To prevent something bad from happening." Which made sense, if he was telling the truth. 

"Why would you care? You threw Uncle Jack off a roof, and blew up half of Cardiff."

"Yeah. I met a woman who worked for Torchwood. She saved my life," John explained.

"Right."

"I won't hurt you."

As crazy as it was, Anwen believed him. She stepped into the doorway. John Hart looked normal. Shorter than Jack with lighter hair, wearing business casual clothes, and an open wrist-strap. It reminded her of the one permanently attached to her wrist.

"Going to tell someone I'm here?"

"Depends." She held up her arm. "What does any of this have to do with me?"

He barely glanced at her. "It’s for future use. You weren't expected to figure it out for years. It’s dangerous right now."

She hesitated. "You can't stay here. Uncle Jack will find you."

John turned to her. "You need to be very careful. Don't talk to anyone outside of your family or Jack about any of this. The wrist-strap can save your life. But it can make you a target."

The really weird part was he sounded sincere. "What do you do for Torchwood?"

"I'm a mercenary."

She wasn't sure of the situation, but he wasn't telling her something. "What are you doing?"

"Adding a secondary security system. Check this out." He tapped the open computer panel and her wrist-strap chimed.

She opened it, and an automated voice said, "Testing building security."

"How do you have access?"

"We have remote connections to Torchwood Three,” John explained. “It allows us to communicate with the hub and each other, if needed."

"Why?"

"Torchwood situations can be unpredictable."

 

John Hart listened as her small footsteps retreated. He needed air. Time travel was nothing new. Meeting a younger version of Anwen was different. The child reminded him of the women he knew: bold, curious, and self-assured. That world was gone, he reminded himself.

He reviewed the newest additions to the security system. The equipment had been sent back for the building, and gave him access to Jack's security. Everything looked good. Anwen's presence made him wonder if he set off an alarm. Which could be problematic. If she reported him, he'd have to approach Jack and explain. A conversion he hoped to delay as long as possible.

John headed outside. They had so much to do and he wasn’t sure he could handle it. Steven waited behind the garage keeping a lookout in case Jack returned suddenly. Keeping secrets from him in Cardiff was nearly impossible. But necessary for the plan to work.

“How did Anwen find you?”

How did you know she did? John said instead, “She can sense me.” Her ability had already been triggered. 

Confused, Steven checked his wrist-strap again. “She didn’t sound an alarm.”

John shrugged. 

“You got lucky.” Steven turned toward their nearby flat, and started walking. 

Adult Anwen caused a conflict between them the last five years. Steven wouldn’t admit it, but he loved her. John didn’t know specifically what happened between them fifteen or twenty years earlier. Torchwood, their mothers, or even their connection to Jack. 

“At least she can defend herself.”

John doubted it was that simple. Anwen had an incredible Rift ability. By the time he met her, she could sense and manipulate the Rift from London. An unimaginable power for an adult. For a preadolescent entering puberty in a repressed culture, it could endanger Cardiff.


	5. Chapter 5

** Torchwood Three; Cardiff, Wales **

Jack Harkness scanned the hub before entering through the garage. The changes were impressive, and indicated the person who planned the redesign knew the facility. He knew he wasn’t involved. The new layout looked more like Ianto planned it. For any number of reasons, it was possible he had.

“What’s wrong?” Gwen asked as they headed for the elevator.

Jack explained.

“Did we get weapon upgrades?”

“Yes.” Jack hadn’t thought of that. He reviewed his scan information again. “The hub’s been turned into a bunker.” He reconfigured his scan. “With improved breach sensors.”

“We need to know what Moss-Probert used that facility for now.”

Jack agreed. “Contact Tosh. Find out if it’s on London’s radar.”

“They would have told us.” Gwen didn’t sound certain as she checked her mobile contacts.

What was bad enough to change the past? Without warning? Jack wondered as his office doors slid open. Nothing came to mind. But it suggested they were unprepared for something. Without more information, there was no way to know what until it happened. He hoped it wasn’t another Miracle Day.

Jack’s mobile rang as he hung up his coat. “Morning.”

“Morning.” Cory Lynch sounded worried. “You need to be careful with Moss-Probert.”

“Why?”

"I overheard something months ago. Moss-Probert had an incident. A young woman from a wealthy family had a mental breakdown. She was traced to a homeless shelter. A Moss-Probert representative recruited her for a research study. Her family found out and demanded her return. The company claimed she left prior to the study. Two private investigators reportedly died trying to find her. She was found dead months later, conclusively identified and accidentally cremated before an autopsy could be performed."

"Can you send me the details?"

"It would lead back to me, Jack."

"Do I have to tell you to be careful?" 

Cory chuckled. "I date older, wealthy, closeted men. I'm always careful."

"I wouldn't call that careful." Jack knew there was more to Cory’s behavior than he admitted. They met through an older man Cory dated. The relationship had been a lot more then he’d admit. When the man died, Cory’s view of everything, especially life, changed. 

"It has it’s moments. But the presents are always worth it." Pause. "You owe me dinner."

“When I’m in London again.”

Cody ended the call.

Jack sat at his desk. How could Moss-Probert hide from Torchwood? London had people monitoring conspiracy sites and following up on certain criteria. To hide, particularly in Cardiff, MP needed help. The government could only conceal so much. Torchwood monitored unethical government research after questionable programs were found in multiple countries in the sixties and seventies. Who would have the knowledge and skills necessary to hide it? He hoped he was wrong. Torchwood was the only idea that came to mind.

 

Gwen Cooper chose a workstation and idly wondered if the changes included more offices. The conference room had good chairs but no workstations. She thought about converting a storage room more than once. But it wasn’t practical. She couldn’t justify the space.

She checked the computer presets for possible Torchwood situations. Nothing flagged in the police or city databases. Then she checked the information Andy sent and followed up. He had concerns that PD wasn’t showing enough interest in the investigation. That fit with what they knew or suspected so far.

The question was where to start. Determining the type of research might be the best approach. She quickly found mailing lists for local suppliers. After a few incidents involving contaminated supplies and several pieces of seemingly haunted equipment, suppliers stopped complaining about Torchwood asking for information. Their cooperation made life easier at times.

This was one of them. Moss-Probert had various offices and facilities receiving scientific and medical shipments. One location caught her attention. Years earlier, Jack sent her undercover to a fertility clinic. It required a lot of research, and more than one uncomfortable conversation with Owen. Certain medical equipment was used exclusively in reproductive medicine. None of the Moss-Probert facilities listed fertility research. She started taking notes. One list was what the various facilities claimed to be researching. Another list was shipments and deliveries of medical and research equipment.

Then she checked what paperwork the company filled out. It didn’t take much to conclude they were hiding the type and extent of their research. With that, an idea came to mind. Illegal pot growers were often found when the police checked their electricity usage. An office building with an undeclared facility would also have unusual energy requirements. At first glance, it looked normal. Than she checked for generators. One of their buildings reportedly had state-of-the-art solar panels on the roof. An article had been done about it. Between the standard energy use and the reported out-put of the solar power, the office building used significantly more energy than similar buildings in the same area.

Gwen went back and reviewed the conspiracy sites again. They tracked some population information. PD collected more. Various criminals, and aliens, had gone undetected because they targeted people that could disappear without being reported. The homeless, mentally ill and/or drug addicts were low risk (to the offender) victims. Someone had to notice and care before it was investigated.

 

Ianto Jones dropped Anwen off before heading to the hub. Assessing the changes would be easier on-site. He needed to walk through and familiarize himself with the new layout. What stood out was the obvious consideration he was given. London didn’t care he existed. During the rebuild, a list of Institute employees was provided to the media. A reporter contacted him to ask why he wasn’t on the list. A clerical error was the official explanation. Something obviously changed. 

Ianto entered and looked around. Nothing stood out. He walked passed Gwen at a workstation and climbed the stairs to Jack’s office. He looked worried. That was never a good sign. Ianto moved over to the side of the desk. Jack looked up.

“Did you find your office?”

“No. Is it a utility closet?”

Jack reached for Ianto’s hand. “A converted maintenance room. Two desks and a work bench.”

Ianto shared his conclusions about London. “The office and promotion are considerate.”

“Gwen was given her own weapons safe and equipment locker and no office.” Jack handed Ianto a tablet computer. 

Before Ianto could think of what to say, the intercom clicked. "We need to review Moss-Probert’s medical equipment," Gwen said. "They have an undeclared bio-lab. The type needed for extremely dangerous infectious research. And a quarantine unit."

“Where?”

“I don’t know. They purchased supplies and equipment specific to that type of facility.”

Walking through the remodeled hub really made Ianto wonder. Quarantine, cell enhancements, cold storage, and hub defenses. The alchemy lab was turned into a bedroom. A second bedroom and a kitchen dining area had been added. He knew the future was preparing for multiple events. The changes offered clues as to what was going to happen. Whatever was coming was bad. 

A more immediate question, Ianto thought, entering his office, was why he needed two desks and a work bench. The equipment and tools said it was for building or modifying computers or possibly robots. Skills he didn’t have. He’s never known Jack to use a workshop.  We’re getting another person , he concluded.

An unfamiliar computer chime sounded. “Hi, Ianto.” The voice was soft and unfamiliar. “You have the unfortunate distinction of being the most under-appreciated Torchwood agent in the history of Torchwood. People often underestimate the quiet heroes. The ones who face insane odds with the wrong skill-set. No matter how bleak it gets at times, your contributions are necessary and appreciated.” She paused. “There will come a time when that changes. Until then, know that time is coming.”


	6. Chapter 6

** Torchwood London, 2044 **

Anwen Williams returned to her flat at Torchwood London wondering if she had the energy for dinner. One government leader said he didn't recognize the authority of Torchwood because he didn't believe in aliens or the Rift. A Middle Eastern ambassador refused to speak with a woman; she refused to give into to the misogynist arse. The other leaders, politicians and representatives also acted like small children. She was suppose to be arbitrating and negotiating, not babysitting a bunch of spoiled brats.

She smelled pot roast as she opened the door. It reminded her of coming home from school and dad cooking. She missed her parents, and silly conversations with Jack. After her mother died, Jack retreated. They still talked now and again, but it wasn't the same.

"You cook?"

John was in the kitchen area connected to the main room. He waited until she crossed the room to respond. "No." He smiled. "I told Cynthia you were overworked and losing weight."

Anwen laughed.

"Pot roast, vegetables from the vertical garden and a homemade pie."

His ability to charm people reminded her of Jack. A charming, mischievous rogue. Seeing him standing in her kitchen with dinner made it hard to believe he'd pushed Jack off a roof, tried to blow up Cardiff, and left her mum to die.

"I need to change." Anwen walked toward her bedroom.

"Cynthia dropped off your laundry this morning. The basket's on the bed."

Which explained how he charmed the head of housekeeping into making dinner. "Thanks."

Anwen changed and returned to the main room. John had already set the table. All she had to do was sit and eat. Simple, she thought, sitting across from John. Except nothing about him or their relationship was simple. The past he shared with Jack during their days with the Time Agency was weird at times, but easy to overlook. What happened with the radiation cluster bombs and later with Gray was complicated.

"How was daycare?"

That brought her thoughts back to the table. "What?"

"The arbitration with the 'adult tantrums.'"

Anwen smiled. She'd forget she told him that the night before. "A bunch of wankers. A friend of Jack's told me during a break that one of the representatives said I'm the head of Torchwood because I'm shagging Jack."

John laughed, almost choking. "You did say it was the family business."

Anwen threw a roll at him and hit in the head. He threw it back. Anwen laughed. John caught it the second time. Then moved around the table and jokingly threatened to crush the roll against her forehead. They laughed and kissed. However complicated his past, the present was simple. She needed someone that understood her. 

Anwen Williams woke and rubbed her face. "What time is it?" 

John stepped into the bedroom. "1000."

Puzzled, she pushed herself up. The curtains were drawn, but she could see sunlight beyond them. "How?"

"I called your assistant at 0600 and told him your phone was off."

Anwen laughed. "What did you threaten to do to Langford if he woke me?"

"Nothing you want to know about."

"Did he ask why?"

"I told him you were indisposed."

"You didn't." She chuckled as she climbed out of bed.

"No." John smiled. "He would have died of embarrassment."

"Yeah. I met Landford when I was twelve. His late wife watched me while my parents worked." She headed for the bathroom. "What time am I expected?"

"After lunch."

She peaked her head back out the door. "I thought I had an appointment with a representative."

"Javed Halim insisted on speaking with Jack."

"For the best. Halim is an old school women-should-be-seen-and-not-heard type. Sudan is having trouble with extremists." Anwen returned to the bathroom.

"You avoid him?"

She didn't respond for a few minutes. "Oh yeah. The last time I dealt with Halim, I walked into the meeting carrying a puppy and set it on the desk next to him."

John laughed. "What happened to diplomacy?"

"He was incapable of understanding how offensive he was. The puppy stated my case." Pause. "The man is an arse."

"I'd rather see your arse. Can I wash your back?

Anwen laughed. "We have a couple hours, right?"

 

** Patty's Pub; London, England **

** Sunday, June 23, 2019 **

Percy Heitt focused on the situation from the passenger seat of a late model sedan borrowed from one of the employees. Albreda chose the location randomly. A seedy bar filled with low-end blue collar workers was the perfect cover; no one would know them.

Inconsistencies bothered him. Each of the subjects at the facility had extensive background checks and psychology testing. None should have been capable or even willing to rebel. An analysis of the facility’s ruins said the explosives were created in one of the labs. They still didn’t know who or why.

Albreda parked blocks away. She was uneasy about waiting in the car. He couldn't blame her. "Be careful."

Heitt nodded before climbing out of the car. The area was depressing. He walking passed the decrepit buildings and avoided eye contact with the derelicts. If he had his way, they would round up the lot of them. Military or research. Either way, they'd be useful. Allowing the homeless and wayward to congregate was a disgrace.

Inside of the pub was even worse. Dim lights did little to hide the grime. He ordered a bottle beer. He didn't trust anything that wasn't sealed. Then he found a table in the back away from the degenerates, and placed his back to the wall.

Arriving early gave him more time to think. Torchwood proved more complicated than expected. They had to get Torchwood to back down and get out of the way. Which required leverage. Once the local situation was resolved, they would quietly reopen their doors in an area without extradition treaties. Some would ignore the situation for varying reasons. Others would welcome them for enough money. They could lose all the real estate in the United Kingdom and stay afloat. But they needed their data. Having the projects alive was preferable, but dead worked. As long as they controlled all of it.

Heitt checked his watch. In less than an hour, he would be in the air headed for Russia. Moscow would work temporarily. The trip would even double as an alibi. But he had last minute details to attend. 

Caudell entered the pub, ordered a beer at the bar and wandered over. The large, former military man looked at home anywhere. At the office, he wore expensive clothing and was polite, well-groomed and cultured. Whereas in a seedy pub, he wore cheap jeans, a t-shirt and work boots. Anyone looking at him would think he was a blue collar worker buying a beer on a day off. Or after working overnight.

"Did you review the information?" Heitt asked as Caudell sat across from him in the back of the pub.

"Yes." The younger man calmly folded his hands around a stein, seemingly uncaring his back was to a room full of degenerates.

"Can you do it?"

"Yes. I already had the team selected.” Pause "Two million."

Heitt knew it would come down to money. Taking on Torchwood was neither pleasant nor easy. "Agreed."

"See you in Russia."

Heitt stood and calmly walked from the bar. No one paid any attention. Albreda started the car as he climbed in.

"Is plan B in place?"

"Yes," she said quietly.

Good, he thought. If Caudell failed, the block of flats would be destroyed. Either way, Captain Jack Harkness would know the price of interfering.

 

Stilleman Caudell waited until Heitt left to motion over his team. He'd served in the military with Bevans, Wogan and Cranmmore. Palfrey was recommended by someone he trusted. Without a word, they claimed chairs around the table. As instructed, they dressed to blend. Each had extensive experience in combat situations and had seen a lot worse than a decent building in Cardiff with unusual security precautions. Once they confirmed the Torchwood team was not in the building or specifically Captain Harkness was not, it would be a pretty simple matter of getting through the adult or adults and grabbing the kid.

"We're doing this, sarge?" Wogan sounded nervous. No one listening would realize the kid survived two tours in the Middle East. In a war zone, he was frosty. Social situations were another story.

"Yeah. Heitt agreed." Caudell told them he was demanding a million instead of two. He had higher stands of living.

Bevans sat back and sipped his beer. He wasn't sure about the situation, but he wasn't backing out. Not unexpected. He was the oldest and had the most experienced in the group.

Palfrey nodded. "We have building schematics?"

Caudell brought up the blueprints on his tablet and handed it to Palfrey. "Only two occupied flats. Harkness and Jones live on the fourth floor. The Williams live on the third."

"We're attacking Torchwood." Bevans sat forward. "We won't be able to stay in the UK when this is over. Do we have an extraction plan?"

"Yes." Caudell had multiple plans. Russia was not the only non-extradition country. Depending on how it went, they could leave several ways. Ideally, they would grab the kid, make the exchange, and board a plane at a barely maintained airstrip north of Cardiff.

"Any chance its a set-up?" Bevans asked.

Caudell had considered it. Percy Heitt was a self-serving asshole who would sell his mother to get ahead. Caudell had reviewed the situation from different angles. There were any number of complications. Heitt wouldn't benefit by screwing them. If he did sell them out, Caudell was prepared for that too.


	7. Chapter 7

** Sanatorium Park; Cardiff, Wales **

Timing was a recurring concern. Jack Harkness knew it wasn’t unusual or even uncommon to have unrelated situations. Aliens and artifacts passed through the Rift randomly. With the changes, and the growing number of concerns, he questioned everything. 

The scene was chaotic. Emergency workers had barricades established. Several police cars, two fire engines, and a morgue van. Two reporters were setting up equipment just outside the barricade. It would be a media circus before long.

"Torchwood," Jack announced to the officer at the nearest barricade. He smiled and the young man looked down and blushed. 

Gwen shook her head. “I can’t take you anywhere.” She sat in the passenger seat with one of the tablets from the hub.

Jack smiled as he parked. "What do we know?" 

"Not much. Teenagers walking in the park found what they believe was a body. They reported an alien probe eating it." That amused her. "Responding police officers assumed the kids were high. They still haven't ruled it out, but they did find what may have been a body with some type of metal thing embedded in it." Pause. "Padrig Toller, the senior constable, opted to call us instead of the morgue because the surrounding vegetation is dead."

"Have they considered it’s a bio-hazard?" A ghoulish display made more sense for Halloween.

"No. Karlen Bryn, the other constable, suspects it’s a prank. She’s worked security at universities for extra cash and says it looks like a student prank."

Jack doubted it. "Have they secured the area?"

"Yeah. Hold on." Gwen tapped the screen. "Toller is now reporting the tent placed over the remains is dissolving."

"Evacuate the park. Possible hazmat situation. Get a helo in the air for additional photographs." The police should have done it immediately. Bizarre situations in Cardiff hadn't been a secret for years.

Gwen grabbed her mobile from the charger. "Could this be a distraction, Jack?"

"What?"

"Moss-Probert has called in favors, destroyed evidence, and there are no witnesses. I make progress on tracing one of their affiliate companies and suddenly we have a strange body."

"What would the distraction accomplish?"

Gwen held up her hands. "I don't know. Give them time to make evidence disappear?"

"Call Ianto."

They climbed out of the van. Curious voices carried. People watched. Jack couldn’t help but wonder if a public spectacle was intentional. The hub changes made him more paranoid than usual. But it did looked staged. What he could decide is what it accomplished other than distracting them.

Gwen made the call as Jack lead toward the river. The area showed a lot of foot travel. It would be a reasonable assumption that anything planted there would be quickly and easily found. The remains were on a patchy grass area next to the River Ely. He could see why the kids described it as an alien probe eating a body. It looked like a low budget horror film.

Jack stepped into the trees and flipped open his wrist-strap. "Scattered alien metal, a few broken devices, and a malfunctioning miniature maintenance bot. Decay from the body suggests it came from a morgue."

"Distraction," Gwen concluded. "Can you deactivate the bot?"

Jack tapped his wrist-strap. "Tell the police it’s not dangerous, but will take hours to clean up. The park needs to stay closed."

"Why would Moss-Probert do this?"

"I don't know." Jack paused to think. "Call Andy. Tell him to monitor all emergency calls. Anything unusual or involving Moss-Probert, we need to know immediately."

 

** Hughes Flats **

Anwen Williams sat at the kitchen table watching an old western. She wanted to watch a new one, but that required figuring out how to get passed the child safety controls. She eyed her wrist-strap briefly. From watching her uncle, she knew it could control certain technology. She had no idea how it worked. With her father working off restless energy on his to-do list, he could walk through the room at any time and catch her. 

Then the back door alarm sounded. Anwen stood and hurried for her stash of weapons. The irony wasn’t lost on her. Her parents objected to most streaming videos as being inappropriate and had no problem with her tech. Finding and securing it required simple scans.

“We have a security breach,” her dad said into his mobile. “I don’t know.” His tense body language answered one question. Mom and Jack were across town.

Unsure of what else to do, Anwen made a decision. She stepped back into her bedroom and flipped open her wrist-strap. “John Hart.”

After a moment, he asked, “Miss me?” He sounded puzzled.

“The back door alarm went off. It’s just me and dad. I don’t know where mom and Jack are but they’re not close.”

“Five minutes.” John disconnected.

 

John Hart entered through the back entrance. Then paused, listening. His hearing was impressive, and he heard nothing. He scanned the building with the basic security equipment he installed earlier. There were five intruders. One in the stairwell. They were trying to manually unlock the doors. They had no idea how the tech they used to enter worked. Steven entered from the roof. He would handle the fourth floor. 

Unsure of a better approach, John contacted Anwen using their wrist-straps. "I need to talk to your dad?"

Rhys asked, "Who is this?"

“I’m John. I work for Torchwood London. Are you armed?"

"Yeah."

John quickly explained the situation. “Do not engage unless you have to.” From what Anwen had said about her father, he doubted the advice was necessary.

He quickly disrupted their ear pieces and headed for the stairs. The look out was on the second floor. Just below him, John removed a miniature stun grenade from his pocket, and tossed it up the stairs; it detonated. He withdrew his holstered gun. When he peered around the corner, the man wasn't dazed. A shot grazed John’s arm. He tossed a second grenade and instead of waiting, as he had before, he spun around the corner and caught the man preparing to withstand the grenade. 

The man was still alive. John hurried around the corner, and shot him a second time point blank in the head. Then ran up the remaining stairs. He could only assume they were biomechs although he had no idea how. With that in mind, he quickly jury-rigged two different types of grenades before opening the third floor door. He tossed them together, destabilizing a second biomech. It was messy, but solved the problem.

The Williams' door was open when he reached it. John heard a shot before he stepped in. A man, dressed all in black, was backing toward the door. He underestimated Rhys Williams. Another shot sounded and the man fell. Rhys stepped out of the bedroom. 

As the intruder died, he started to transform. A black mass bubbled from an artifact in the man’s chest. A crunching sound and metal crashing followed. It didn’t take much to guess what was happening. 

“Get back in the room. Shut the door!” John retreated quickly to the hallway.

"What happened?" Anwen asked over his wrist-com.

“Dead man’s switch.” John didn’t have time to explain. "Can you sense the creature by the door?"

"Uh." Anwen closed her eyes and concentrated. When she realized she wasn’t looking for an energy signature, but a negative, she found it. "I can sense it. I don't know what it is."

"Throw it into the Rift."

"How?"

"I don't know. I never asked." John sighed. "You can throw it into the Rift."

Anwen had a different idea. She focused on the beautiful ribbon over head, feeling the familiar, tingling energy. She channeled the energy into the nothing, and the Rift absorbed it. And lost her balance immediately, feeling dizzy and nauseous. "Is it gone?"

John quickly scanned the area. “Yeah.”

“I don’t feel well.”

“Rhys, you need to put her in the shower. As cold as you can get it.”

“Everything glows.” Anwen sounded high.


	8. Chapter 8

** Hughes Flats; Cardiff, Wales **

Not for the first time, Gwen Cooper wondered about the price of working for Torchwood. She usually loved it. Working with Jack, she'd seen both the amazing and the impossible. Security issues were always a concern. Hughes Flats should have resolved some of the problems.

Gwen's mobile rang. "Are you okay?" She could hear the shower running in the background.

Rhys sounded relieved. "The bloke you sent took out four of the five of them."

"What bloke?"

"From Torchwood London. He had a thing on his wrist like Jack."

The only other wrist-strap Gwen knew of belonged to John Hart. "What happened?"

"The front of our flat was destroyed. The floor looks solid. The wall between the flat and the hallway, the kitchen counter, the table, the carpet." He hesitated. "It looks like a very strange bomb went off."

"Jack's pulling into the car park."

Gwen couldn't get passed the wrist-strap comment as she climbed out of the van. “Why would another Time Agent be on Earth?” She explained what Rhys said.

"I don't know. According to John, there were only seven left." Jack believed that much. "John's the only one that would come here."

Jack ran for the building and Gwen followed. They took the stairs instead of the lift. He paused to scan the body with a hand-held. "A biomech. The person who did this knew what they were doing."

What was happening, Gwen wondered as they continued up the stairs. When she stepped into the hallway and saw the damage, it was unbelievable. She stared. Over the years with Torchwood, she’d seen a lot. Melted cement was new. The more she thought about it, it looked more warped than melted. How did you survive that? Anwen sat on the floor with wet hair wrapped in a blanket. Visible through the giant hole in the wall. She looked up with tired eyes and a weak smile. Rhys hovered nearby, his clothing partially wet. 

Gwen walked through the hole. "Are you up to telling me what happened?" 

"It all started with the tooth fairy in the storage room…" Anwen tried recounting what happened as if it was a funny story. The humor didn’t reach her eyes.

Gwen listened, having trouble connecting the John Hart who tried to kill her and the one who saved her family. 

"When we talked about drugs, you said addicts could do horrible things,” Anwen said. “It’s a sickness."

"Yes."

"If John went to one of those places, maybe he's not sick anymore."

Even recovering addicts had serious problems. The immediate question was why John cared. There had to be something in it for him, but she had no idea what. She could imagine it had to do with getting back into Jack's good graces. Ten years had passed for them. John moved through time so it could be weeks or months for him.

"How old does John look?"

"Uncle Jack's age, maybe. His hair is grayer."

"Was he wearing a red coat?"

"No."

Rhys motioned her farther into the flat. Gwen followed him. They stepped into Anwen’s bedroom farthest from the door. There was no damage, but the carpet near the bathroom was wet. The tile floor was soaked. She hadn’t thought to ask why they were wet.

"What is it?" Rhys asked.

"What exactly did John say to you?"

Rhys paused to think. "He was from Torchwood London."

"Remember the man I told you about who worked with Jack before Torchwood? He tried to kill me, shot Owen, threw Jack off a roof? During another visit he blew up half of Cardiff."

Rhys shook his head slightly. "John was here to protect Anwen. She asked him for help and he came." 

 

Jack Harkness scanned the damage again. Even with identical readings, he didn't believe what he was seeing. A creature that should have destroyed the building was taken by the Rift. While the Rift did remove people and items, it was random. This wasn't.

Jack looked up as Gwen stepped back into the hallway. She had an odd expression. “It was John.” From her tone, that wasn’t what concerns her the most. "Anwen can control the Rift."

Although Jack considered that unlikely, except it fit the readings. Another thought occurred to him as he was trying to piece together a scenario in his mind. He knew why Anwen’s wrist-strap looked familiar. It was a replica of John’s with a few modifications.

“Why would John protect Anwen?”

Everything starting with the wrist-strap lead to a future version of Anwen. The changes only she could sense. The hub modifications using designs Ianto would approve of and the promotion. From his own experiences with John, and the Time Agency, his less than ideal personality traits could be managed and even manipulated by someone he was emotionally involved with.

“Why?”

It was too soon to share the picture forming in his mind. If Anwen had the ability to change the past, it was likely she controlled Torchwood. Over time the job warped a person like the explosion damaged the wall. Figuring John out wouldn’t take much, if she had access and possibly old stories. When he was in Cardiff last, he was having trouble coping. He needed a job and a mission. A bribe. Add a relationship and she’d have him.

“I don’t know.” Jack wanted to be wrong. John was a lot more complicated than most people realized. And smarter. If she lied to him he would figure it out. The consequences would be unpredictable and violent.

 

** Near Hughes Flats **

John Hart sat on the floor in his flat. After all he'd seen, done, and survived, he thought he'd never feel again. The sex, alcohol and drug addictions had been an unconscious attempt to feel. None worked. He'd been angry and lashed out, blaming others for what was missing.

He held up the simple necklace with a gold ring. It looked braided on top. Simple and solid without adornment, like the woman it belong to. She had been many things to him. He chose peace for the inside engraving. It was the one thing no one else had ever given him.

With a sigh, he tucked it back under his shirt. She was gone. When the time changes started, the woman he knew and loved ceased to exist. If he lived to see her again, he would be too old, and the circumstances leading to their relationship couldn't be repeated.

Unable to handle the memories or pain, he forced himself to focus on the laptop and Stilleman Caudell's flash drive. It had unexpected information. Caudell had been hired to abduct Anwen. The goal was extortion. Security and alien tech details were minimal. The building blueprints came from the city and included what floor and flat the Williams lived in. Which could have been determined from utility records. The result of shooting Caudell appeared to be secondary. He doubted Moss-Probert knew the consequences of what they intended.

Anwen's ability was unknown to them. Even after destroying the creature, they should have assumed Jack's defenses did it. Although, he couldn't guarantee it. If they figured it out, the next attempt on Anwen would be a power grab.

The gaps and inaccuracies suggested the information wasn't firsthand. The psychological profile on Jack was hilarious. Egomaniac and sex-crazed. His immortality was reduced to fast healing. Caudell either suspected a set-up or alternatively Moss-Probert wanted to plant information. Which could mean the profile was intended to be insulting. Either way, one of them expected Torchwood to act on it. It wouldn't take much to determine whether MP would benefit from it. That would tell him the intel's purpose.

After improving Jack's security net, and his own, he could work on the MP problem. It helped that Anwen had a tracking device. Jack had changed a great deal since the days they worked together. But his methods were much the same. It meant he knew where Anwen was all the time.

Steven entered the room. “That alien was off script.” The accusing tone said what his words didn’t. 

John looked up. “I don’t know.” He’d seen damage done by the creatures more than once as a Time Agent. In the future on the other side of the galaxy. “If I knew it was there, we would have brought different equipment. Killing the last intruder was basically a dead man’s switch. He needed to be placed in medical stasis.” There was no way he would have allowed it anywhere near Anwen.

“Someone else is manipulating time?”

John shrugged. “Our being here could have unexpected consequences.”


	9. Chapter 9

** Mae'r Chwaer Hyll; Cardiff, Wales **

** Tuesday, June 25, 2019 **

Unsure of how else to make contact, Jack Harkness made arrangements through Anwen. John reluctantly agreed and named a time and place. He sounded different. Time had passed since his last visit to Cardiff and something changed him. That could be good or bad, depending on how it happened.

The pub was busy on a Saturday afternoon. Pool balls clashed on one side of the room. Televisions murmured in one corner and over the bar. Jack walked around tables full of happy, noisy people. John sat as expected in the back. His clothes were similar to what showed in the building's CCTV footage. He was eating dinner and drinking water. He looked up from his tablet a moment before switching it off.

"Which speech am I getting first?" John sounded amused. "Breaking into your house? Talking to your niece? Or violating territory?" John sipped his water. 

"Moss-Probert." Jack sat across from him.

"Down to business. MP is a corporation involved in genetic engineering. Torchwood policy changed at some point from arresting the scientists to executing them. Countries quietly hunted them for knowledge and experience in combining contemporary and alien technology for military purposes."

"And you just know that?"

"One of the varied duties Torchwood assigned involved soldiers. Having been one yourself, you sympathized with the conscripted. I hunted them." John shrugged. "There was nothing anyone could do except put them down."

Jack suspected there was a lot more to it. "What did Torchwood offer?"

"Varaxi crystals. Boxes came through the Rift. The boss paid me two an assignment. Except MP soldiers.” John smiled. “I expected hazard pay."

Jack laced his fingers together. "Two crystals an assignment?"

John’s smiled broadened. "She offered two originally and lied about how much she thought they were worth. To make me think I was conning her."

It sounded plausible. "Why are you here?"

John’s humor faded. "Earth was at war with itself and aliens. Torchwood believed they came through the Rift originally from another time line or universe, and determined when they started affecting Earth. It was necessary to combat the influence. Which is why they needed me."

Jack knew he was missing something. "How were you recruited?"

"The boss used recovered alien technology and scans of your vortex manipulator to abduct me. She then offered the crystals in exchange for an assignment."

"She's someone I know."

John nodded. 

"How is Anwen involved in this?"

"She's the boss. The head of Torchwood in 2049." John hesitated. "This isn't a conversation we should be having."

"Anwen sent back a malfunctioning wrist-strap and you to protect her?"

John shook his head. "Except it isn't malfunctioning. Anwen knew how her ability would manifest. After her younger self knew how it worked, she'd make a bad target."

Jack knew John wasn't telling him everything. The pronounced change was a lot more than being bribed with a king’s random. "What happened to you?"

"I almost died. A Torchwood woman cleaned me up and dried me out. Cliche romance."

"Where is she now?"

John looked at the table, the pain written across his face. "She's gone."

Shit, Jack thought. No matter how Anwen did it, they had a serious problem. John tied his recovery and his “second chance” on a woman that died. Even if she hadn’t manipulated him, the affect would fade. He'd be there ally while the guilt and the pain lasted. Or rather he'd follow Torchwood 2049 orders while it lasted.

 

Steven Carter sat nearby nursing a drink and keeping an eye on scan results. While he didn’t know the details, he knew his grandfather didn’t trust John. It was entirely possible that Jack arranged the meeting to capture his old friend. But there was no indication of a trap.

The waitress brought his supper order. “Thanks.” Under other circumstances, Steven would have flirted. 

Instead he felt like an idiot holding onto the memory of a woman that rejected him years ago. Watching Anwen fall in love with a man that had once been his grandfather’s lover felt like something out of a tabloid or a talk show she joked about when they were younger. 

Steven heard the familiar sound of Jack’s boots and looked up. It was hard to fake not knowing some one. Lying to Jack was damn near impossible. “You look like Captain Harkness.” Stupid might work.

“Have we met?”

“No.”

Jack looked skeptical. “You look familiar.” Steven couldn’t remember if his grandfather met his father. That made more sense than Jack recognizing him. 

“Cool.”

Steven knew he’d failed as Jack walked away. When the door closed behind him, Steven gave it a few minutes before carrying his dinner over to John. It didn’t matter if they were seen together. If Jack didn’t scan the area immediately, he would the next time they crossed paths. The wrist-strap illusion wouldn’t prevent Jack from finding and recognizing it.

“You should have flirted with him.” John chuckled. 

“Right.” Steven downed the rest of his drink.

John reached across the table and touched Steven’s hands. “It’s never to late to change your mind about men.”

“I will shoot you.” Steven couldn’t help but smile at the absurdity of the situation. Flirting was the best idea. Except he had no idea how to flirt with men, and didn't want to learn.  


 

Moss-Probert Office; Moscow, Russia

Percy Heitt reviewed reports at his desk in the new office. The building and neighborhood left much to be desired. The noisy downstairs neighbor was a wannabee record producer with an odd assortment of clients. Directly across from the wannabee was a modeling agency that either promoted porn or was a low rent escort agency. Whichever the case, the situation was mortifying.

The botched abduction attempt was a bigger headache. Caudell had a five man team including three biomechs. Captain Harkness and his paramour were across town. An unknown person or persons took out Caudell and the creature that should have destroyed the building. The police report claimed Rhys Williams and an unspecified guest of Harkness defended against the home invasion. Which wasn't possible. Scan readings of the building indicate the creature was transported into the Rift. Harkness was reportedly afraid of opening the Rift which meant someone else was involved. 

Heitt could only conclude his information was flawed, including one or more unknown Torchwood agents in Cardiff. He reached for the phone. There was a London party planner who was very good at coordinating fundraisers. A wine tasting or an art gallery showing would work as a cover. Both for those in favor of the company's various projects and those who traded in information. It would be worth the expense.


End file.
